Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. Or Riku. There, I said it!

A Note from the Authoress: Whoo, first Kingdom Hearts story. Just a bit of a Riku thought-ramble. Got sort of bored. ;) Please review!

They were so different from him, and yet, they were his best friends. One, a sort of gangly boy, always bordering on rival, ever loyal. The other, an almost shy little girl with no memory of her past, only hope for the future – the boy always liked her, he could tell – she was like a younger sister, a sort of thing to be fondly protected. They were children, only a year younger than he, but decades more naïve. They saw only the light, only the joy in their lives, never anything lacking. Sure, they dreamed of other worlds, new sights, new adventures, but were they truly unhappy with what they had? No . . . everything was a sort of game, especially to Sora. Dreams to him were as tangible as that wooden sword he lugged about, but had just as much consequence. It was all some paradise beyond paradise, unreachable and unnecessary. But that was Sora. He was different – he knew the meaning of darkness.

Darkness? Was it really all so bad? They had their precious light and so did he, but did they not realize that without darkness, there would be no light? Did they not realize that everything had its opposite? And he did not fear the dark. He didn't belong to darkness, as Sora belonged to light. It wasn't something so simple as ownership, as alignment. He could shine like a beacon in the night, but did his shadow not hold power as well? Should he not harness the entirety of his potentiality? Should not darkness and light unite to become the most powerful of all? But Sora would not consent to such a union; he did not see. But even Sora had a dark side, even Sora.

Would he never learn that to rid the world of darkness, he would have to start with himself? The greatest fear one can ever have is themselves. Sora was ignorance, Kairi innocence, and he, he was the knowledge, the strength. He held within him the greatest light of all, but the plunge into darkness was his only reprieve, and at the same time his only fault. He wanted more, believing to deserve so, proud and too trusting in himself, trusting that he would be able to turn back should he fall too far.

To fall, to drown in shadow and light, sinking through the clots of his own guilt and pride. It seemed almost impossible, but he, too, was blind to the netherworlds beyond his island, perhaps even moreso. He loved the darkness, almost fearfully, but he loved it, and it seduced him to its depths, drawing him further and further in. It seemed harmless enough – power at his fingertips, just waiting to be explored. But was it really what he was meant for? Was such a shadowy glory the way he was to break free of the mundane rituals of life here? At the moment it was all he had: the night and silence . . . the swift plunge into darkness, that breath of evil that promised life but would only grant death. The light was gone, and all that remained was that dark essence of pride. He had made his choice.

But at what cost?